A Whitewing's Fall
by Dawn Allies
Summary: Just a random short story about a Whitewingwhite pidgeot species of other storiesand her final flight. Some themes from other stories of mine but nothing much


Haven't actually written anything in a while so here's there. Just a random short story about a Whitewing and the central mountains of Kanto/Johto. If you've read any of my other stuff you'll have an idea of some of the themes. Adios.

**A Whitewing's Fall**

**By Dawn Allies**

She smiled with eyes as blue as the bright sky above.  
Her grey white form winging above mountains and clouds alike, casting pale shadows on snowy surfaces.  
She was a lord of her domain, the high mountains of the great divide, the barrier between the lands of the north and south. Not that she had knowledge of either of these lands. No she was a Whitewing, a guardian and survivor of these great heights. It was her life to live upon these barren slopes and fly these empty skies.  
At one time there had been more to this life that what she lived now, but those were past times, times forgotten by even the oldest of the old. Though not forgotten by the mountains themselves. Here, there, in a sheltered spot or forgotten alcove one could find markings, scratchings of shape and design that showed wonders and marvels of a time long lost. Pictures of small beasts upon the backs of those such as herself! Creatures of so many colours and shapes it was a marvel to image such things. Purples, greens, reds, yellows, even those of blue! Such creatures had she never laid her own eyes upon in the flesh. No, those she hunted and those she saw were of greys and the whites, sometimes the browns if she went to the lower mountains, but never creatures of such colours as the pictures displayed. Also there were The Towers, the crumbling remains of structures unlike anything the mountains themselves bore. Not always had there been The Towers it was said. Great creatures of strength and might had crafted the very mountains flesh into these tall stone columns, creatures that had created even greater wonders in even more dangerous places. Times had it been she'd flown over The Towers, either one or more and seen rainbows scattered around them upon the snow as the high sun beamed down on them. She'd even gone close to dance within these colours once when young. Learning when she did that it was a great stone coloured as the thinnest ice grasped within the rock claws of The Tower that had created the streams of rainbows that danced upon the snow. These hints and marvels of times long lost meant something different now.  
They would lead her, her who had grown and become old.  
Her feathers no longer held the gloss of youth. Her bones groaned in the mountain winds as they strained with her muscles to pump harder. Even her eyes had begun to glaze, no longer showing the crystal clear view they once did.  
Yet still she smiled. She'd left a legacy. There were those to follow her flight paths, to gaze upon those sights she could no longer see so clearly. Her memory would live on in those she had helped to create and bring to life. She would be forgotten as their own lives passed on, but so long as she had taught them right and they survived well, they would be remembered in those they created themselves. This was what mattered. Her course took her further than she'd gone in years, further still than a lifetime had taken her on wings and wind. She saw others of her kind. Some she remembered from youth, others from those of recent years. Both the good and bad, forming memories of the happy and the sad. None did bother her, not even did any come close by. But then this is the nature of her kind. The single, the one. Always alone but for nesting either as young or for the young.  
Neither was she contested for territory as would be normal. No, she had right of passage on this, her final flight. Her frayed feathers and her determination of wing all the proof she needed for those who saw. Yes this was to be her final flight, her last winging forwards. She was going to take herself to the place of legends and myth, to that which she'd heard the winds whisper all her life. It was the final right of a life long lived in such a harsh place, none could contest her right to what she wished to do.  
Long hours had passed and longer still to follow as she followed The Towers, the one true marker to lead her where she wished to go if legends were true.

At last did her eyes see.  
The Towers grew older, more worn and damaged until it was that she had been forced to go below clouds, to scan out signs of the last rubble of what was left of those stone structures that had once stood majestic. But found had they been each time until it was there was no need. No, not with what spread before her.  
This was the centre of the mountain range, not exactly it's heart but close enough. Here rose a great ring of mountains higher than any before them, they stood a circle around barren sky upon either side of their heights. This was what she'd searched for, this was to be the final destination. Wings straining, tendons and muscles pumping for all they were worth she made her final ascent. So high was she forced to fly that even her body, the very body built and grown through generations of high mountain living, was forced to strain beyond her belief, suffering lack of oxygen as nothing she'd known since her fledgling days. But then finally, at least did she eclipse the wall of mountain and was able to soar out over lands unknown.  
And unknown were they, like nothing she'd seen before in her long lifetime. Circling lower, ever lower so her old eyes could see this strange new world, this world of old. Far below over half of the valley; forest, thick with greens of unimaginable variety. Strange things glinted within that forest, structures of stone even thrust out of it, enraptured with green as if the forest would never allow escape. There was even a basin of water fed by a great waterfall upon it's north-western shores hidden within the green.  
Then there was the other half. Grass covered all, even creeping vines and smaller of trees leeched themselves upon what was the greatest of all marvels.. A city!  
A great stone city of ancient times when colour once walked this valley as life other than flowers and fruit. Wonders beyond wonders were these sites to her old eyes. This was the home of those she'd seen etched in stone, this was where once others had lived within the mountains making marvels and wonders the likes that had not been seen for lifetimes.  
As the circles became smaller, her glides slower, her eyes scanned upon the centre of the ancient city. Five structures still stood, seemingly untouched by the destruction elsewhere that had caused some buildings to crumble and others to become little more than dust and sand.  
No she was wrong, as a turn, a shift in the wind proves. There's a large gaping chasm that leads to depths unknown carved through one of the two greater of the five buildings. This is the spot, the one she had flown here to find. Her heart set, her mind made up, once again she ascends to gain height.  
Eyes leaving her chosen spot only to sweep the city and surrounding forest with wonder and marvel. If only she'd come when younger.. But no, she does not regret her life and it's choices. Yes this place is a wonder but how could she of had the life she chose within this place with it's mountain confines? No she could not of lived with mountains like these that surround and contain, she is a free spirit as her wings intended.  
At last she reaches the hight she wants, wings spread, feathers stretched as she looks upon all that lays before her. An ancient city of wonder and marvels, a delight to behold in these her last.. She lived her life.

She regrets nothing.

She falls...

The wind itself rushes, her eyes close..

Darkness descends.. But something before.. something in those last moments makes her wonder before the blackness crushes.

* * *

A white dot high within the sky.  
It grows as it moves as fast as it can, wings beating furiously as it's owner curses and hollers to that it can see falling. Too late does he find himself.  
With effort he slows himself to prevent from crashing into the building concealing the chasm.  
He curses himself for his lack of vigilance, for falling asleep in his self appointed duties.  
Landing light upon the great temple he looks down into the chasm, his feathers ruffling uncomfortably from a cold breeze blowing up from below.  
Why do they always choose this place?  
Why this place of cursed horrors?  
Don't they realise this place is not sacred, that it's not a way to the higher skies?  
He sighs again and launches back into the empty air, to return to his vigilance.  
To prevent those who come to take their lives within this cursed city in what they believe to be their last right.  
Some he saves, some he doesn't.

That is his curse.  
He was the general.  
He was the leader of days gone.  
He was the Whitewing to first fall from these skies in the war that raged within these mountain walls …decimating all those that had once lived here a millennia ago.  
He is the last guardian of the once great City of Gods.


End file.
